Years ago I worked with a woman who was diagnosed with a mental illness. I lost contact with her when she moved to another state. However, she left this poem:

Father, why do I try so hard to be more than I am?

Am I so unhappy having limitations…

Knowing I am weak…

Being Human?

I try to impress…say, “I’m fine”…

busy myself with activity…give advice…

or pretend to answer any questions.

I am like a china doll, tottering on the shelf of life.

Father, let me be a rag doll…

Worn with love, knowing it can’t stand alone,

An easy listener, comfortable to be with, whose

Bent is simply toward being a rag doll.

Rag dolls

                Don’t break

                                When they fall,

Yet they can’t stand up


                                They are held.

Please Father, please just hold me.


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